


In his arms

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bed-sharing (sort of), Deviates after 3x7, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 01:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20666921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: While on the way back from Harrenhal, when the group spends the night on the way, Brienne wakes up in Jaime's arms.





	In his arms

**Author's Note:**

> More pointless, tooth-rotting fluff. Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

When she opened her eyes, a feeling of warm contentment was the last thing she expected, the unwelcome surface of the hard ground they had to make do with, despite the bedroll, far from conducive to a good night’s sleep. Inspite of that, she’d slept well, and not much she could remember from last night, her fatigue and Qyburn’s Milk of the Poppy making sure their rough sleeping arrangements had not been a deterrent to her immediate escape into a deep slumber.

It was only when she ran her palm along her _ pillow _ did she realize what, or _ who _, it was! Embarrassment killing her, she was about to extricate herself from his grasp, when a deep voice rang in her ear, “Am I that prickly, wench?”

Doubly ashamed of her unconscious lapse, she jerked away from him and shrank against the wall, sitting up wide awake now. “I’m sorry, Ser Jaime,” she started, unable to come up with an explanation nor an excuse. 

“Don’t be,” he replied, dragging himself to take a seat beside her. “I don’t sleep much under these conditions, so it didn’t bother me at all.”

“You could have woken me up,” she said, her cheeks growing hot.

“How could I have disturbed you?” he softly replied. “You needed that rest.”

“It doesn’t matter. You could have pushed me away,” she went on, cursing herself for ending up in such a plight. 

Since they’d left Harrenhal, something had changed between them, at least in the way she had begun to perceive him. To avoid complications in her already muddled life, she had been careful around him ever since. Careful with her words, careful not to even look him in the eye for more than necessary. Worried that the feelings that were building up within her might cause her to let down her guard, she had been cautious enough to keep a safe distance from him. Her growing change of heart towards him alarming enough, the last thing she wanted to encounter was a situation that brought her physically close to him, stirring unwanted thoughts and sensations inside her. 

“I may be unscrupulous, but I’m not that inhuman, wench.” She thought she noted a touch of hurt in his voice, but when she turned to him, she noticed that he was regarding her with a twinkle in his eyes. “Besides, you looked quite comfortable in my arms, I didn’t have the heart to nudge you away.”

She scrambled to her feet, unwilling to surrender to the power those eyes held on her. “We should get ready for our onward journey,” she said, attempting to switch the conversation to something neutral.

“There’s a lot of time for that. It’s barely sunrise yet,” he complained, patting the floor beside him, “sit down for a while.”

Having no choice nor any other way out, she sank to the floor again, rueing the fate of her poor heart, hoping she wouldn’t start pining for the man who had slowly, but definitely, replaced Renly in her heart. The appalling discovery of waking up in his arms gave rise to another wave of discomfort in her chest, and she brought up the matter again before she could stop herself. “I shouldn’t have,” she moaned in regret, prodding absentmindedly at the sheet they were sitting on. “I--I’m sorry, I ought to have kept a distance--”

“You did nothing wrong,” he kept harping on the same thing. “Why, then, does this bother you so much? Unless--” his face fell “--you find me so repulsive that you can’t stand touching me--”

_ You’re far from repulsive. The only thing I can’t stand is the crude reality that you can never be mine. _

“I’m not used to waking up with someone,” she blurted out, surprised that she’d opened up to him with such honesty, “I--”

“Start getting used to it, Brienne.” 

Such assertiveness there was in the way he’d said it, that she couldn’t help searching his face for an explanation, wondering if there was more to this conversation than just a playful argument. 

“I--I mean,” he tried to go on, but couldn’t, the confidence in his voice draining away the second her eyes began scanning his. “You’re going to share a bed with your husband someday,” he suggested with a nonchalant shrug, “so…” he trailed away, instilling in her mind’s eye the dream of a future and a husband she desired, but could never have. 

“That’s never going to happen,” she snapped, when reality projected its grim face again. Love, marriage, husband, family - all this was for women who possessed the virtues capable of attracting men, not homely warriors like her who the menfolk shunned. Thrice had been enough for her to realize that no one would ever want her. Not Renly. Not Jaime. Not anyone else.

But he didn’t seem to want to give up, the steely note of determination back in his voice when he advised, “Never assume anything about the future, Brienne.” 

“I’m assuming nothing,” she confided again, fighting to contain her distress. “I’ve been rejected thrice, once by a man old enough to be my father.”

“You just haven’t stumbled into the right man yet.”

This was the last straw, telling her it was time to put an end to this disturbing discussion. “Do not mock me, ser,” she countered indignantly, “I know I’m ugly, worthy of no man that lives, undeserving of a family, husband and children. But that doesn’t give you the right to--”

“Will you listen to me for a moment, wench?” The command in his voice forced her to shut up and hear him out. “I’m not taunting or ridiculing you.”

“That’s all you’ve been doing for weeks,” she cried out, his insults having twice the effect on her than they had before, “ever since you first saw me.”

“Do you think I returned to Harrenhal to keep you alive so that I can insult you?” His voice went up a notch this time, and he appeared to be as flustered and agitated as her. “I came back because I--”

She didn’t want to let go of a chance to find answers to her questions. “Why?”

He exhaled deeply before he spoke again. “That, no man can ever love you, is once again your assumption, my lady. How do you know there isn’t someone who pines for you? Someone who’d be ready to lay down his life for you?”

“I have no hopes for such a man, nor any inclination for such a life,” she categorically declared, determined not to fall into the trap she’d once made the mistake of voluntarily walking into. One Renly taking over every breathing moment of her life had been enough all these years. One unattainable man in her life had been a handful. She wasn’t going to let it happen again. Not with a man who could never love a woman other than his sister. “I’m never going to get married,” she announced with added conviction.

“Not even if I promise never to mock or insult you again, my lady?”

Stunned, she stared at him, wide eyed and unsure of what she’d heard. And even if she’d heard what she’d heard, she didn’t know how to deal with it, how to interpret it without the fear of being grossly mistaken.

He shifted closer and slipped his hand in hers. “I’m terrible with words and absolutely pathetic when it comes to matters of the heart, but--” He leaned into her, his breath mixing with hers, the warmth in it making her want to snuggle into his chest and go back to sleep again. “I could try, wench,” he said, his eyes shining with passion, “if you give me a chance.” 

At a loss for words, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, to rejoice or doubt the sudden twist of her fate. She trusted him, no doubt, his honour, his word, his--everything, and she loved him. She loved him more than she’d ever loved Renly, more than she would love anyone else. If love ever happened to cross paths with her again.

“I don’t know--” she began, but the words turned into a nervous giggle which then, somehow, morphed into a joyous sob.

“Say yes, then,” he urged, his lips touching hers, “and rid me of this agony, my lady.”

“Father would approve,” she uttered the first words that came to her head without thinking. “As for me, I think you already know my answer, Ser Jaime.”

And then he kissed her. Out of this world he turned out to be, and heavenly, his lips on hers. Sweeter than the sweetest honey she’d tasted. Softer than the softest sheet she’d slept on. Tender, he was, at some moments, and at others, rough and masculine, reminding her of the dreams she had, until recently, dreamed of Renly, reminding her that he, and not the king she’d once lost her heart to, was now an inseparable part of her. Tell her, he did, every time his mouth hungrily sought hers, though not in as many words, that he would soon be hers, and she, the lady in his life.

“I’ll make sure I seek Lord Selwyn’s consent,” he murmured, wrapping his stump around her waist and pulling her in for another kiss not many seconds after they'd broken apart for air. “And you’d better get used to waking up next to me, wench,” he warned, flashing her a seductive smile which did strange things to her nerves. “It’s going to come in handy soon, for the many sleepless nights that lie in wait for you.” He paused, the smile giving way to an intense gaze of want. “And once you get close enough to me, you’ll come to know I'm really not that prickly after all…”


End file.
